Mikey the Storyteller
by RobinNightingale
Summary: The TMNT family, including the Joneses, have a new arrival! And at last, it is the Turtles' turn to take care of her. But when the little tyke refuses to go to bed when everyone else is exhausted, it's up to Michelangelo to save bedtime! Witches, trolls, superheroes, and the Turtle Titan...what could possibly happen?
1. Prologue: Babysitting, the Mutant Way

A/N: I have _always_ wanted to write a TMNT fanfic. They are my absolute favorite American cartoon show, and I'm currently rewatching the 2003 series. I always thought I'd start with Donatello, who is my favorite turtle, but this idea popped into my head and I thought it was so perfect, I had to write it down. So, here it is. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 1: Babysitting, the Mutant Way**

The sounds of a baby had not been heard in the Lair for many years. Grown and on the cusp of adulthood, the closest any of the turtles had come to making such noise was Michelangelo's scream of fright. Yet on this summer afternoon the Lair was full of gurgling, bubbling laughter that was the trademark of a young infant. For Master Splinter, it was a trip down memory lane.

The Joneses were two hours away from a business party, celebrating the opening of the newly created O'Neil Tech. The turtles were already well-aware of the importance of tonight's party, if their trip to the future had anything to say about it. So they had immediately agreed to watch over and take care of the Jones' eleven-month-old daughter, Agatha "Aggie" Jones, for the rest of the day. The Joneses were due to be out till late at night, which meant close to seven hours of babysitting time for the mutants.

This also meant absolutely nothing sharp, heavy, dangerous, or perishable could be left lying around, including weapons. As one could imagine, the turtles didn't sit too well with such a notion. With four pairs of mutant eyes available to watch her every move, they argued, it seemed unlikely any trouble would happen. Yet Master Splinter seemed determined to not take any chances, and with Donnie's help, as well as much debating, arguing, and (in Mikey's case) whining, the Lair was soon baby-proofed to a tolerant level.

"I really appreciate this, guys. There wasn't anybody better we could think of."

April Jones, dressed in a beautiful deep-red evening gown, wore a smile as warm as her presence as she gave Aggie to an eagerly waiting Michelangelo, who accepted her with surprising gentleness. He smiled at April. "No problem, dudette! It's our absolute pleasure!" He tickled Aggie's belly with one thick finger and smiled widely at the joyful squeal it elicited.

April picked up the duffel bag that had been set down by her husband. "Here's all her supplies. You'll find a list inside telling you what to do in case of anything. Food, towels, her favorite toys…they're all there. Our phone numbers are on the back, don't hesitate to call if _anything_ happens. No business party is going to get in the way of my Aggie."

"I am sure it will all be fine, Ms. O'Neil," Master Splinter chuckled. Despite the fact the Joneses had been married for more than a year, Splinter had yet to adjust to April's new title. "You need not worry. We will take good care of your daughter."

Raphael walked over and took the duffel back when April offered it. He suppressed a grunt. "Man, what kinda toys d'ya got in here? Cement blocks?"

"Aww, what's the matter, Raphie? April can lug around a bag full of baby stuff but you wimp out? Guess all that weight lifting never cut it." Mikey laughed and moved his tickling to Aggie's feet. Aggie giggled and clapped her hands, as if in agreement.

"Shaddup. If you think it's so easy, you can take it," Raphael growled, hefting the bag over his shoulder.

"Nu-uh, dude! I got baby-holding privileges. And we all know which turtle Aggie likes best." Mikey shifted Aggie so that she was facing him and stared her straight in the eye. "Huh? Who's your favorite uncle turtle, Aggie?" he asked, pointing obviously to himself. "Huh? C'mon, who's your favorite?"

Aggie's face split into a grin, showing two teeth. "Waff!" she said proudly.

As Mikey's face slackened into shock, his three brothers laughed heartily. "Not the answer you were expectin', eh, Mikey?" Raphael grinned smugly.

"I don't think it was the answer any of us were expecting," Leonardo teased.

From besides the Battleshell, Donatello hid a grin, pretending to straighten his coat. As the co-founder of O'Neil Tech and the inventor of most of its patented objects, it was agreed he would make a _very_ brief appearance at the party for business purposes. By some great fortune, the party was a masquerade, and Donnie felt no need to bring a fedora.

"Shut up! She probably just got our masks confused or something." Mikey held Aggie protectively, as if Raphael might drop his load and snatch her from his grip.

Raphael just chuckled and made his way to the kitchen.

Donatello snickered, breaking his composure at last. "Then again, we all have to wonder exactly what it is about Raph that Aggie would find so endearing, especially over Mikey here."

"Shut up, ya sh—!"

"Raphael!"

"—shellhead." Raphael poked his head into the doorway to the kitchen. "Sorry, Sensei."

Ever since Aggie had been born, Master Splinter had made it his business to censor the casual-mouthed turtle on a daily basis, in the event Aggie ever made an appearance. This had been the cause of some amusement as of late to his brothers, who on occasion took advantage of Raphael's recent inability to curse.

Casey poked his head from inside the Battleshell. "Yo, April, we gotta go!" he called. At that, Donnie removed himself from his stance and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Oh, my God. Okay. Thank you all so much again." April dashed to Mikey and Aggie to give her daughter one last peck on the head. "Oh, you be a good girl for Mommy's friends, okay, Aggie? Mommy'll be back soon." She ran to join her husband, turning back to give one last wave. "Wish us luck, guys!"

"Good luck!" the remaining turtles chorused, all waving in turn.

"Don't forget to park somewhere inconspicuous!" Leo called.

"Come on, Leo, who do you think you're talking to?" Donnie grinned.

"The shellhead who's pretending to wear his head as a mask," Leo retorted.

Donnie saluted and started the car.

"We'll be back around eleven, eleven-thirty. Bye!"

The Battleshell roared to life. Far from being frightened, Aggie screamed in delight and clapped her hands at the noise. The front door opened as Donnie drove towards it and into the sewers beyond. With a final _thud_ of metal, he three were gone.

As soon as the door closed, Mikey grinned, swinging Aggie around in both arms. "Yahoo! Now we can have some _real_ fun!"

Aggie squealed and kicked her feet in the air. Laughing, Mikey took off around the lair, holding her with her limbs splayed out. Together, they ran up the stairs and across the walkways.

"Bbbbbrrrrrrr, _Kkkscchhhh_, Aggie Thunderbolt II, you are cleared for takeoff. _Nnnnyaowwwwww_!"

"Be gentle with her, Michelangelo," Master Splinter admonished, following Michelangelo's every move with watchful eyes. "A child is a fragile thing, not one to be swung around as your _nunchakus_."

"I'll take care of it, Master Splinter," Raphael said as he came into the living room. A scowl deepened into his face as Mikey's raucous laughter rang out once again, and he set off for the stairs at a quick pace. Soon after he disappeared to the second level Splinter heard his trademark growl and Mikey's subsequent yelp of fear, and the walkway began to rattle with their running footsteps. All the while, Aggie was squealing in laughter.

Master Splinter shook his head, turning instead to his eldest son, who had taken a spot on the floor to meditate. He struggled to keep back a smile as he saw Leonardo's shoulders tense with every shout or scream. His eyes caught a loose pebble on the floor, and silently he picked it up. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he sent the projectile speeding towards his son's head.

Master Splinter's eyebrows furrowed at the small cry of pain that followed. "What the—?" Leonardo whirled around, eyes narrowed to catch the culprit (no doubt prepared for Mikey), but widened them in horror and confusion as they fell instead upon his teacher.

Master Splinter rose from his position and walked over to his son, who unfolded himself from his lotus position and sat more casually, shoulders slumped and head angled downwards. He looked quite depressed.

Splinter smiled, despite himself. "Perhaps meditation would be better achieved in a better-suited environment, my son. The dojo would be less irritating," he suggested gently, placing a paw on Leonardo's shoulder.

Leo shifted so that he faced his master. "That's actually the point, Sensei. I'm trying to increase my awareness in an environment full of noise. Outside, there are tons of distractions, and I've been training myself to be able to think normally under any circumstance." He sighed. "Normally, I can relax my mind without a problem, but for some reason I'm having trouble today."

Master Splinter chuckled knowingly. "You miss the obvious, my son." When Leonardo looked at him in confusion, he continued. "What has changed today from your usual meditative environment?"

Leo frowned. "Aggie, but I didn't think she was _that_ distracting…"

"You would be surprised just how annoying a child's crying can be," Splinter grumbled, settling down besides his son.

"Were we really that bad?" Leo asked with a wry grin.

"You have no idea. I missed an entire month of meditation once before I learned how to quiet you. All four of you had different methods of being comforted." Master Splinter laughed nostalgically. "And you, who are inexperienced with being around a child, are much more susceptible to the noises a child makes. As it is, I would suggest you take a break from meditating today and instead try to enjoy the rest of the evening."

"I see your point." Leo sighed, then got up for the remote. "Might as well see if there's anything good on."

Master Splinter's eyes widened on the seventh channel Leo flicked through. "Ooh, stop it here, my son! They appear to be having a marathon of _Brother of my Brother_."

Leo groaned inwardly as his father settled into a rare night of seven hours straight of stories.

* * *

_One hour later…_

"Open the hangar, here comes the plaaaaaaaane!"

Aggie laughed loudly at Michelangelo's high pitched voice, and at the opportunity, the ninja turtle slipped the spoonful of baby food into her mouth. Nearly half managed to stay; the rest dribbled down her chin. Unperturbed, Mikey caught the greenish mush with the spoon and returned it to her mouth. "Nice try, little dude, but you ain't getting out of eating your greens so easily," he grinned.

From behind him, Raphael leaned casually against the doorframe, watching with disbelieving eyes.

"Adorable, isn't it?"

Raph gave Leo an acknowledging nod as he approached. "Who'd think that Mikey knew so much about kids?" he muttered, not taking his eyes off Michelangelo.

Leonardo chuckled. "Think about how well he takes care of Klunk," he reminded. "If any of us know how to care for a child, it's Mikey."

"A kitten ain't the same as a kid, Leo."

"Even so…"

Mikey scraped the last of the baby food out of the jar and managed to get Aggie to swallow at least most of it. Unhooking her disposable bib, he wadded up and threw the stained cloth over his shoulder into the trash bin behind him. "Bath time!" he said brightly, picking Aggie up. He laid her gently across his shoulder and patted her back.

Leo furrowed his eye ridges. "Maybe he got some tips from Sensei or something…"

"Or maybe I'm just a naturally good parent!" Mikey turned around, acknowledging the pair at last. A smile spread across his beak as Aggie gave a rather impressive belch, and he held her out at arm's length. "That's my girl!" he beamed.

"She ain't yours, Mikey," Raph growled.

"Shh, she might develop niece issues," Mikey whispered worriedly, holding Aggie close.

"Aside from the ones she already has from bein' around you all day?" Raph snorted.

"Excuse me?!" Mikey squawked. Putting Aggie on one hip, he pulled a pouting look. "I take offense to that." He marched past the pair in a huff, snout pointed straight up in the air, ignoring the raised eye-ridges his brothers were giving him.

Raph scoffed. "Drama queen," he muttered under his breath.

* * *

_Two hours later…_

"Y'know, a kid's giggles sounds cute up t'the point where it starts ta annoy ya," Raphael said quietly.

Leo cast a subtle glance at his brother. Though Raph's voice had been even and calm, Leo had easily detected the danger beneath the tone. Sure enough, the second-eldest brother was sitting hunched in the armchair, one fist to his temple and his other three fingers drumming steadily against the chair arm.

"I think she might be ready for bed, Mikey," Leo called lightly.

No answer, except for another loud squeal of happiness.

Leo sent a worried look at the front door. "I hope Donnie's okay. He was supposed to make only a brief appearance at the party…"

"Not to worry, Leonardo," Master Splinter called from the couch. The TV was muted during a commercial, and the aged rat took the time to hold up his shell cell. "Your brother texted me about twenty minutes ago. He said the ruse of a mechanical mask was far more believable than he had thought, and he had become caught up in some conversations discussing the mechanics of a movable mask."

"Typical," Raphael grumbled.

"Well, as long as he's not in trouble." Leo yawned, then got up and looked around the corner, where Mikey and Aggie were playing with a few of her baby toys. To his amazement, neither looked the slightest bit worn down.

_How Mikey manages to generate that much energy is beyond me. If Donnie looked into it, he might find some way to hook him up to power our TV or something. _

The leader of the turtles was then struck with a sudden image of Mikey playing video games, only instead of wires connecting from the game station to the wall, they were stuck all over his body.

Immediately he shook the image away. _Guess that's my cue for bed, or at least to stop watching soap operas,_ he told himself.

"Mikey, it's 10:30. I think she should be getting to bed now."

"That might be a problem, Your Honor," Mikey admitted.

The baby looked as jovial as the hour she arrived, with no sign that she was ready for rest. Leo kept back a groan. The night seemed farther from ending than ever. He certainly wouldn't be able to sleep with Aggie's laughter echoing through the Lair.

"Can't you do something about it?" Leo pleaded.

Mikey set down the blocks he was holding, and leaned forward to pick up Aggie, getting to his feet with his trademark smile plastered on his beak. "No problemo, El Capitan! I have a solution!"

"Good." Leo sighed, then yawned again. "I need to get some rest."

Mikey laughed. "Aww, Papa Leo needs some shut-eye from the baby time. It's okay Leo, new parents always wear out easily early on."

"_Please_ never call me that again," Leo muttered. "I don't think I'm ready to start thinking about that just yet."

"Don't worry, Leo. I'm sure some day, if the Turtle gods are _extremely_ favorable towards us, you'll make a _great_ dad!" Mikey patted his brother's shoulder as he walked past him.

"Now _that's_ a scary thought," Raph commented.

"Shut up," Leo retorted.

Michelangelo carried Aggie across the Lair, away from the others, to the quietest part of their home, bouncing the baby in his hold all the way. "They say this kinda stuff is supposed to help babies go to sleep, but they must not have tried it themselves, 'cause you are not getting anywhere close to tired," Mikey grumbled.

He set her down in her makeshift crib Donnie had built a couple months before. Mikey had taken the liberty to decorate it in every manner he thought appropriate, with pictures, hanging toys, and even a few stuffed animals, donated from his own childhood, to line her bedding.

Aggie immediately began to explore her new residency. Not yet able to walk, she settled for crawling the length and breadth of the crib, examining every nook and cranny as if to ensure Donnie had performed satisfactorily. Finally, she reached for the edge and pulled herself into a standing position, grinning toothily (or gummily) at Mikey.

"Ya like it, huh, little dudette? That's good, cause Donnie spent a whole lot of time on that just for you," Mikey smiled.

Aggie cooed in agreement.

Mikey drew up his favorite sitting chair (the one he always used when reading comics) and settled in next to his niece. "Well, since the usual methods for getting you to sleep aren't working, I have one last trick up my sleeves—I mean, wrist guards. Y'see, Aggie, I was like you when I was a little kid! I always wanted to play. In fact, I still do." He sniggered. "Gets on Raph's nerves a lot. Well, I try, anyways. Heh." He returned his attention to Aggie. "But, Master Splinter had a secret. Whenever it was bedtime and I wouldn't go to sleep, Master Splinter would take me up to my room and sit there with me, just like I'm doing now! And then he'd tell me a story."

Mikey smiled nostalgically. "Man, his stories were the greatest! Awesome battles of the ninja of Japan, myths of the gods and ancient beings, even stories about turtles! Well, those last ones were actually more for teaching me a lesson if I did anything wrong. Especially that one with the bunny…Anyways, every time he told me a story, I couldn't wait to go to bed, cause then I'd always have the most amazing dreams ever!"

Mikey stared Aggie straight in the eye, who was still gripping the side of the crib tightly as she wobbled where she stood, her grin as wide as ever. "So that's exactly what I'm going to do! I'm going to give you the best and most awesome dreams you ever had!"

Mikey shifted into a more comfortable position. "You might want to get comfortable. This story could take a while…"

As if in response, Aggie fell back on her rump with a _fwump_, staring up at Mikey expectantly.

"Okey dokey, little dudette. Here we go…"

* * *

Disclaimer: I won't get fancy with my TMNT disclaimers, unless y'all want me to. That's for my Yugioh fanfics. At least for now.

Yup, you guessed it. No matter how much I wish I did, I don't own TMNT.


	2. Chapter 1: The Tremor

**A/N:** Now, isn't this interesting. I was surfing through the Ninja Turtles stories when I happened upon one titled; get this, _The TMNT of Oz_, written by fanfiction author Zairihannah. It seems to follow a _very_ similar plot line to the one I've got. Go ahead, take a look, I'm sure you'll like it. I know I did. So, to clear up any confusions and accusations right now, I am _not_ plagiarizing off of Zairihannah, I _never_ saw this story until the 24th of June, and I had been writing this story _long_ before that, and this story is _entirely, completely, _and _totally_ of my own design. Just getting that out there right now. So! On with the adventure!

* * *

**Ch.1 The Tremor**

Michelangelo hummed a tune as he exited his room. He tried to contain his excitement as he flipped over the banister and slid down the staircase rail to the ground, then walked over to the garage as nonchalantly as he could. He halted momentarily when he caught his image in the hallway mirror, and frowned. Straightening his mask, he turned this way and that, checking that his weapons were properly placed. They had to be perfect. Too far forward and they'd clutter up his image, but too far back and they'd be hidden from view. After some fiddling, he was satisfied, and he resumed his humming and continued on his way to the garage.

On the way, he passed by Donatello's lab. The door was ajar and the techno turtle was typing away at his beloved computer. Webpage after webpage was drawn up, and Donnie paused in his typing to peer at the results. He frowned, and put a hand to his chin. Something wasn't right about these seismological readings…They seemed unusually strong. He was reaching to the side without looking away from the screen for his coffee, when a strange shiver suddenly went up his shell.

Donnie froze, and tried to make sense of what he just felt. He normally only got that shiver when….something bad was about to happen…something that usually involved Mikey…

He turned around just in time to catch his disaster-prone brother disappear past his doorframe.

"Um, Mikey?" Donnie called.

The humming stopped, and Mikey stuttered to a halt, one leg in the air. He leaned backwards, sticking his head behind him just far enough to see past the doorframe to his brother. "Yeah, bro?"

Don swallowed a prickle of unease at what met his eyes, and he kept his voice light and casual. "Uh, what are you doing? And, where are you going…dressed like that?"

At the mention of his attire, a wide, excited grin split the beak of the hyper-active turtle. He lowered his leg, but continued to show only his head "Why, I'm glad you asked, Donnie-boy! It just so happens that tonight is a very important night! Can you guess what it is?"

Don stared hard at his brother. In truth, he had absolutely no idea, nor did he have any intention of guessing. His first and only priority was to stall Mikey for as long as possible to discern his intentions, and then find some way of stopping him. "Um, sorry, not this time. I haven't been paying attention to the calendar, to be honest…" he said vaguely, but Mikey was already talking.

"I'm sure you know already, being the smart turtle you are. But I'll tell you anyway. Tonight, and _only_ tonight, is the 52nd Regional Comic-con, premiering of the latest entry of the _Silver Sentry_! And not only that, the Silver Sentry himself is going to make a cameo appearance! So naturally, as superhero partners, this is a night that calls for…THE TURTLE TITAN!"

Mikey jumped backwards so that he was in full view of his brother and posed heroically, shield on one arm and grappling hook in the other. His Turtle Titan cape billowed dashingly behind him, even though there was no wind to blow it.

Something important from that entire rant of useless information clicked in Donatello's head. "So, does that mean you're taking the Battleshell?" he finally asked.

"Yeah. Is that okay?"

"Um…" Don's eye ridges creased. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

Mikey frowned at the worried tone in Don's voice. "What? You think I'm going to crash it, don't you?" He crossed his arms, uncrossing them immediately after when his grappling hook poked his arm.

"I _always_ think that you're going to crash it. But that's actually not what I'm concerned about here," Don admitted, swiveling around in his chair back to the computer. He pulled up his previous webpage. "I've been monitoring the seismological activity in the Northeastern seaboard for the past few days. According to my readings, as well as the reports from the mainland, they're the highest New York has ever had, coming up to even 5.6 on the Richter scale."

"Uhh…Donnie, you know I can't be expected to understand anything you say."

He turned back to Mikey, not at all surprised to see him standing with a pained expression on his face.

Donatello sighed. "It means we've got earthquakes in New York," he explained.

"Again? Wait, that means something bad's going to happen, doesn't it?! Something bad always happens after an earthquake!" Mikey started to look around wildly, as if an earthquake might hit their home that very second.

"Stop freaking out, they're not anywhere near us, for now," Don reassured him. "As far as I can tell, the epicenter is located around the center of Queens, and only the smallest tremors have been hitting Manhattan. So far, about six quakes in total have been recorded over the last three days."

"Yeah, okay, so can I take the Battleshell or not?" Mikey was starting to fidget uncontrollably

A fierce but very quick internal debate issued through Donatello, and he hesitated before answering, "I'm 90% sure they're not going to get any worse, but—."

"That's good enough for me, bro!" Elated once again, Mikey took off for the garage, his cape streaming behind him.

"Wait!" Donatello leaped up from his chair and ran after his brother, but stopped at the door. Years of experience kept him from leaving his lab unattended, and it took a good measure of minutes to safely lock it up. "That doesn't mean it's certain they're not going to happen! Just…be careful, okay?" he called.

Michelangelo stopped just long enough to turn around and give his brother a grin and two thumbs up. "Hey, I'm me! I always make it home okay!"

Donatello sighed. If anything, that phrase made his uneasiness worse. "I really hope that's true, Mikey" he muttered.

**1, 2, 3 ,4, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!**

Michelangelo slowed as he got closer to the garage, snatching the keys off their hook as he passed the entrance. He stopped at the driver's door, and was about to climb in when he felt something warm and furry press itself against his leg with a _mrroww_.

He looked down, and smiled. "Aww, hey, there, Klunk!" he said affectionately, reaching down to pick up his kitten. Klunk purred as Mikey ran a gloved hand down his back and reached up his head to nuzzle the turtle's chin. Mikey chuckled.

Klunk meowed, and Mikey frowned down at him. "Ya wanna come with me, little guy? I dunno...You probably can't leave the lair, first off, and I dunno if you'd like the kinda thing I'm going to."

"_Mew,_" Klunk responded, and purred louder.

"Well, okay! Just this one time." Mikey leapt into the driver's seat and placed Klunk in the passenger's side.

He had already turned on the ignition when he noticed something. Every button had a label. Some were tags that read which button did what, but he noticed that nearly all of them had his name written on them. He looked closer at one of the tags with his name, then let out a small noise of indignation.

_MIKEY, DO NOT TOUCH._

Mikey frowned when he noticed there were considerably more of these notes than those without. "No respect whatsoever!" he grumbled to Klunk. "It's like he thinks I'll mistake the on button for the rocket launcher!"

He pressed a round button in the center, and the Battleshell shuddered as it began to rise topside to the garage.

"I mean, I _did_," Mikey continued. "But you learn from your mistakes, right?"

Klunk gave no response, but began licking his paw.

"Yeah, I knew you'd agree with me."

At the top, the garage door was already opening. The headlights switched on and the Battleshell revved up. With a whoop, Michelangelo accelerated out of the garage and onto the streets.

"Isn't it funny how normally Manhattan's got tons of traffic, but when we drive, there's like, nobody around?" Mikey commented aloud. Indeed, the normally-busy streets were entirely clear of vehicles. In fact, they were devoid of any life at all. No people walked the streets, no pigeons roosted the rooftops, nothing.

Something about this should have registered as odd, the turtle felt, but the thought was pushed from his mind an instant later when he remembered his destination.

"I bet everyone's down at the convention anyways," Mikey grinned to himself. "I mean, how often do you get to talk to a superhero? Yours truly excepted, of course. Man, Klunk, I'm so glad I decided to take you along. You are going to find out just how lucky a cat you are to have a superhero as an owner!"

Klunk blinked once and half-closed his eyes, bored.

Mikey swung around a corner and sped forwards. He pumped a fist. "Oh, yeah! Another block to go and we are golden! Comic-con, here we c—whoa!"

The Battleshell shuddered as a tremor suddenly gripped the street. Klunk was instantly on his feet, fur standing on end and eyes wide as moons. Mikey could feel the vibrations beneath his feet, and he tensed at their strength. The steering wheel shook in his grip.

"Man, this has got to be _way_ stronger than 5.6 Rickys!" Mikey screamed and swerved left as a chunk of concrete tumbled down the front of an apartment to smash on the sidewalk below. On like that he went, snaking wildly down the street as he avoided obstacle after newly-created obstacle.

"You've gotta be kidding," Mikey breathed.

Before him the road was literally splitting down the middle—a yawning black chasm was growing wider by the second before his eyes. It looked so much like in the cartoons, Mikey would have commented on it if the Battleshell was not heading right for it.

Instinct kicked limb-freezing terror out to the curb, and Mikey slammed both feet on the brakes. Debris continued to fall, raining down on the top of the car as it slowed. Yet it seemed the road had slickened since the last time he drove, or maybe the gap was simply coming to him, because stopping was the one thing Mikey wasn't doing.

There was no time to open the door and jump out. Mikey could only gather a terrified Klunk in his arms and scream, "Hold on, Klunk! We're goin' down!"

As the Battleshell rumbled over the jagged edge, his last thought was, _I really hope Donnie's installed some great airbags._

Darkness consumed his view as the Battleshell was pitched front first down into the void. Groaning metal and crashing rock echoed around him, then everything was silent.

* * *

Michelangelo didn't realize he'd fallen asleep—or rather, unconscious—until he came to. He blinked his eyes open, squinting in his blurry vision. At first, everything was simply black, with some distinguishable shapes in the mess. Gradually the rest of his senses came to him, and he got the sensation that he was hanging face-down from the ceiling. He raised his head, then winced when a sharp pain jolted through his neck. He groaned and put a hand to the offending area, twisting his head this way and that. It felt like a cramp one gets from sleeping in the wrong position. Perhaps that meant he'd been like this for hours, if not days. His vision clearing, Mikey looked around and got his first proper bearing on his situation.

The Battleshell had definitely crashed, though it seemed more intact than he expected it to be. _Gotta give credit to Donnie's handiwork, it really is made for battle situations,_ was Mikey's first coherent thought. The second was, _Oh, crap, I really _did_ crash the Battleshell! Donnie's going to kill me!_ Then, _KLUNK!_

The Battleshell was, for the most part, upright, though it was slanting forward at a near 45 degree angle. It felt as if he'd parked down a steep hill. Though Mikey very much wished to free himself and search for his beloved kitten, he knew enough to guess that his weight on the dashboard of the truck may send the vehicle careening further into who-knows-where. He could barely see anything for the dark, though it was light enough that he could see the outline of his own hand in front of him.

Mikey settled, therefore, for calling his cat and hoping for a response. "Klunk!" he said, for some reason not daring to speak louder than an inside voice. Since he had awoken he had heard nothing except for his own movement, and yelling in an enclosed space was eerie.

"Klunk! Klunkers, where are you? Oh, please don't be dead, Klunk, it'd break daddy's heart if you died!"

His words were only half-joking, and his fear amplified when there was no sound, no movement to indicate a response. "Klunk!" he called again, louder now. To hell with eeriness. "Klunk, where are you, buddy?! Speak to me!"

Mikey's head whipped to his right when he finally heard a muffled _mew_. His face split into a relieved grin. "Klunk! Aw, I'm so glad you're alive, little dude!"

Remembering there was an emergency flashlight kept in the glove compartment, he fumbled for the glove latch. He clicked it on and pointed the beam in the direction of the sound.

A dirty white muzzle poked up from the crack between the seat and the door of the passenger's side. Klunk's whole head soon followed, and Mikey, unable to contain himself, burst out laughing at the sight. His orange fur was covered in dust and sticking up in some parts and he had closed one eye while leaving the other half-open, giving him the image of having tasted something unpleasant. After a moment Klunk clambered fully from the crack, looking maybe a little traumatized but otherwise unharmed. He meowed loudly as he approached his owner, as if complaining to him his situation.

"Aww, I know, Klunk. C'mere, you." Reaching over, Mikey scooped up his kitten in his arms, nuzzling him close. Klunk purred and pressed his front paws against Mikey's beak, giving him a small lick.

Michelangelo cuddled his cat for a few more moments before looking up. "Well, now that I know you're all right, I might as well try getting out," he said. His heart sank as he took in the damage he could see to the Battleshell. The windshield was completely smashed, and some debris had fallen in. The upper right corner of the truck was dented so badly Mikey felt claustrophobic, and some of the controls were missing. He tried the door, but it wouldn't budge; something was blocking it from the outside.

He looked down at Klunk. "Ready to go spelunking, Klunk?" he asked. "Heh, always wanted to say that. 'Spelunking'…Sounds like a huge rock being thrown into a lake."

He carefully set Klunk down on the dashboard, then licked his beak thoughtfully. "Hmm, how to do this…" He would have to use all his agility and skill to free himself without tipping the truck. Reaching above and behind him to get a good grip on his seat back, Mikey gingerly brought his feet up to the seat edge. He was going to have to use only his upper body strength for this one. Readying his thumb over the release button for his seat belt, he took a deep breath, and pushed down. Immediately he raised that hand to join his other and with grace that would have made a gymnast envious, he swung himself up and over behind his seat, landing without so much as a tap on the floor.

Flipping his cape out of his face (he'd momentarily forgotten about his costume) he bowed to an imaginary audience. "Thank you, thank you. Please, you're too kind."

He turned back and held out his arms. "Come on, Klunk! We're going exploring."

At his word, Klunk kicked off the dashboard and jumped into Mikey's hold. Balancing on the slant, Mikey undid the latch for the roof exit. Though it was banged up, it opened, and he jumped to the top

The Battleshell suddenly groaned and tilted from his weight as he landed, and Mikey stumbled backwards, arms windmilling to keep his balance. "Whoa, shell! Bailout!" He performed a flip from the roof to the side, preparing to land on any surface, just as the Battleshell gave way and started to slide…

…for about two feet, then stopped again. Mikey, meanwhile, nearly slipped again as his feet met rubble…rubble that was too loose for his liking. He caught his balance and his breath in due time, then frowned at the vehicle. "Huh. Give a turtle a heart attack, why don'cha."

At this point he could finally take in the extent of the damage to the truck. The Battleshell was almost completely buried a huge mound of rubble, which explained the slant. Innumerable dents and scratches ran up and down the outer casing, but its wheels seemed all right. The worst part was the windshield and the back corner, which was sporting a very impressive rip right through the armor.

"Not too bad," Mikey said to himself. "Nothing Donnie couldn't fix. I hope…"

He pointed the flashlight upwards. "Just as long as I'm able to get it to Donnie, that is," he murmured, his heart sinking a second time.

As far as he could tell, they had fallen into a cave, and a wide one at that, though just how wide he couldn't tell. He edged his way up the rubble mound, and hesitantly dared a peek upwards.

Black met his vision. He couldn't see any sign of Manhattan. There was no telling how far he'd fallen. Even the flashlight's beam seemed to go on forever.

"Can't go up," he sighed. He pointed his flashlight the other direction, where he saw the mound ended. "Might as well go down. Come on, Klunk."

He picked his way over the rocks, Klunk at his side. However, a few feet from the bottom, one of the rocks gave way and he gave a cry of surprise as he found himself suddenly sliding on his shell the rest of the way. He yelped and winced as he dragged a short distance on the cave floor before finally stopping, his head at the base of the pile.

"Well, that's one way to get down," he sighed, laying his head back.

Klunk meowed and jumped one stone at a time to his owner. Mikey raised a hand to pet him as he drew closer. "Yeah, I'm okay, Klunk, don't worry…"

He sniffed, and wrinkled his nose. "Ew, what smells so bad? I hope I didn't land in bat poo or something…" He rolled over on his side and found his beak inches away from a boot.

Mikey screamed and scrambled away. "Oh shell, oh shell, oh shell, oh shell…" he repeated under his breath. _Crap crap crap, I killed someone! I went ahead and killed someone! Oh, man, oh, jeeze, crap…_

He went through several more _Oh crap_'s when he finally began to calm down. As he did, he noticed the size of the boot in comparison with himself. The sole, he now saw, was nearly as big as his head. Whomever he had fallen on, he was a big fellow, abnormally so. _If he's a giant, he might be okay,_ Mikey thought frantically. He paused, and reconsidered. _Then again, if he's a giant, maybe I don't _want_ him to be okay…_

He had to make sure, in any case. Swallowing, Mikey approached the boot, which stuck ridiculously and almost comically from the rubble. He tapped the boot and hastily retreated, then returned when nothing from the rubble moved. He shook the boot this time, then again, harder, and still nothing happened. Relief began to wash over him now, and he sat next to the boot, slumping with his back against the rubble. "Whoof! Y'know, you really gave me a scare for a moment," he conversed to it. He patted the tip of the boot. "Guy your size…I'd really rather not tangle with you."

A _thud_ suddenly came from the darkness in front of him. Jumping to his feet once more, Mikey nervously pointed the flashlight in that direction. He saw, for the first time, what looked like a corridor leading into more darkness. Another _thud_ came, and Mikey cringed. Someone was coming down that corridor. And that someone was wearing boots.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I got the 'spelunking' sound thing from a Calvin and Hobbes strip. The bit about Klunk looking all funky with his facial expressions is something I see my cats do whenever they taste anything sour or unpleasant. It's pretty funny, and I wanted to visualize Klunk doing it to…Anyways, review if you want another chapter!


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